Page 58 of Ballistic

Yeah, it was true. I did want it, but not like that. Didn’t even remember saying that shit.

She leaned in again, pressing her lips to mine, and my body froze, caught between wanting to keep going and knowing I’d better stop.

I turned my head to break the kiss. “How long … we been doin’ this?”

“You finished off the bottle an hour ago.” Her comment had me kicking my head to the side, to where the whiskey bottle stood empty on the nightstand.

I didn’t remember any of that, either. “I drank it all?”

With her silky body rocking painfully against mine, I looked down to see only her panties separated my dick from her pussy. “You don’t want me now, Dax?”

“N’like this. I wan’ you, but … fuck. I need … t’sleep … it off.” Every blink of my eyes grew longer, the blackness shuttering my lids. “M’sorry.”

She held my face in the palm of her hands, liquid amber washing over me, and with the next blink, everything went black.

23

Nicoleta

“Don’t be sorry. Be grateful I care enough not to kill you.” I slid my bra over my shoulders, staring down at Dax, passed out on the bed. I’d drugged his liquor with a double dose of Hedonic, hours before he’d arrived, knowing he’d opt not to tell me where he’d taken Jasper. Few swigs into his whiskey, and he’d spilled the location.

At least, I thought he had. The words had come out slurred, but if I wasn’t mistaken, it was the old Detroit River station, a marine delivery service building downriver. Mostly used for storage, if I remembered right, from some news report about it being vandalized a few years back.

I trailed my finger down the sharp edges of his jaw over his perfect lips. Ones that begged for another kiss. Leaning forward, I let a moan escape between us as I seized them again, sucking the whiskey from his skin.

He was a tragically beautiful man. One I knew would ruin everything for me.

Eyes still rapt on him, I pushed through my T-shirt and yanked on my boots. From the bathroom, I swiped one of the towels on the sink, and nabbing the keys to the ‘Cuda off the table, I padded out the door, down to his car.

* * *

Screams echoed down the hallway, as I angled the flashlight I’d found in Dax’s glovebox ahead of me. For any other girl, those haunting sounds would be enough to raise the hairs on the back of the neck and turn her around. For me, they were the sound of sweet vengeance.

The screams of the innocent souls he’d swallowed, begging to break free.

Water that’d pooled on the floor splashed beneath my boots, as I tromped forward, ignoring the thoughts that attempted to invade my headspace.

The visuals of Eden on a recording that looked like it’d been filmed on an eight-millimeter reel. Her screams. God, those screams.

I paused mid-step and slammed my palms to my ears, eyes clenched shut. As if I could hear them right then.

No. Not now. Not when revenge was so close.

Opening my eyes, I kept on, locating the source of the cries in a dank and rayless room, whose concrete walls carried moss and water stains over chipped brick and splotches of graffiti. Place had been kept for storage and occasional deliveries, but certainly hadn’t been maintained over the years. The stench of mold and piss hung on the air as I entered the room, finding Jasper in his underwear, blindfolded, and tied to a post, where he sat on the floor with his feet bound together.

“Who’s … who’s there?” The shaky quality in his voice told me Dax had already scared him shitless.

Good.

The yellowish stains on his tighty-whities marked the source of the piss odor stinging my nose. There’d be more of that. Much more.

“Please …” His voice cracked on the plea, as if he’d suffered too much already. “I’ll give you anything you want. I’ve got money.”

I wanted to laugh at that. He had nothing. For the last few years, the little weasel had worked day shift in a small garage, living on a few pennies more than minimum wage. At night, he trolled the streets for homeless kids, taking them in, feeding them a hot meal in exchange for sexual favors. The more desperate they were, the better, until one of them had finally worked up the balls to go to the police and he’d gotten locked up for two years. He’d eventually found the BDSM club on his release, where he could indulge in his sick little fantasies without getting caught.

Until Dax had found him.

Smiling, I rounded the pole that held him tethered by handcuffs, a glint reflecting off the shiny metal beneath my flashlight. Hand tucked inside my pocket, I ran my hand over the foreign key I’d spotted dangling from the ring that also held keys to the ‘Cuda and the apartment. One I didn’t recognize, until that very moment, staring down at its mate biting into Jasper’s wrists.